


Wait.  What?

by sabaceanbabe



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: F/M, Wicked Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-05
Updated: 2012-12-05
Packaged: 2017-11-20 13:29:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/585870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sabaceanbabe/pseuds/sabaceanbabe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>What was I thinking?</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wait.  What?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Trovia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trovia/gifts).



> Written for the Wicked Winter ficathon for Trovia's prompt: Beetee/Enobaria, what was I thinking? Not betaed.

Alcohol and other mind-altering substances had flowed freely all evening. Voices grew louder, gestures more flamboyant, inhibitions dwindled as the party continued on into the wee hours of the morning.

That’s the only explanation Enobaria has for what happened following her sixth shot of straight tequila. Or it might possibly have been that little pink pill the tequila had washed down. Things became a little fuzzy, beyond that.

Still laughing at something Finnick said (now, if things had happened with the pretty boy from District 4, it would have made sense) when a path through the crowd of people seemed to open up like a giant zipper and Enobaria’s gaze rested on the only man in the ballroom neither engaged in a conversation nor consuming anything more entertaining than water. At least, whatever was in his glass _looked_ like water.

Without making a conscious decision, she smacked Finnick in the chest and left him staring after her as she stalked her prey. She didn’t know who the man was or if he was here with someone else (not that something like that mattered in the Capitol). All she knew was that he was alone, he wasn’t at all interested in the party (a luxury she had never had, not since the president ordered her teeth altered to enhance her image – and her price tag – with his fellow citizens), and she absolutely had to know if that was water in his glass.

He was about to take a sip when she took it from his hand and drank, enjoying the burn as the liquor slid smoothly down her throat. He wasn’t as easy on the eyes as Finnick, but then not many in Panem were. Still, there was intelligence in his dark eyes along with curiosity and he didn’t seem at all intimidated by her. Just to test that theory, she smiled as she put his drink back in his hand, making sure to show all of her teeth. The man merely raised one eyebrow and calmly took that sip she had interrupted, thus cementing Enobaria’s interest.

She doesn’t remember much after that, just snippets here and there: The rasp of his beard on her skin. The sound of his moans as she dragged her teeth across his nipples. The slide of his tongue against her clit (the memory of that even now makes her smile). The smell of good, honest sweat mixed with something spicier, the combination surprisingly pleasant.

Someone stirs beside her and Enobaria blinks several times rapidly before turning her head to the side on her pillow (and it is her pillow in her bedroom in her apartment in the Capitol). Her eyes meet his and he looks as shocked as she feels.

She says “Beetee” at the same time he mouths “Enobaria” and then, following a pregnant pause, again together, “What the hell was I thinking?” (Well, Beetee didn’t include the “hell.”)


End file.
